Pointe Shoes

Chapter one

When most people crack under pressure, you don't usually hear an actual crack. That is, unless you're me, and you just tried to throw your pointe shoes out the window, only to find it's closed.

Dang it.

I hustle over to the now cracked window, open it, and chuck the Pointe shoes that ruined my life, out into the street.

Ah. Much better.

I study the crack. It's fairly visable. How on Earth did Pointe shoes crack a window? I marvel at this, the eighth wonder of the world, until my concerned mother makes a entrance. Exactly one minute. Ah, making great time today. Usually it takes at least five minutes for my mother to come to the rescue if there's a loud crash, boom, scream, or if she sees a pair of Pointe shoes falling right from my window.

"Honey? Are you okay?" My mom questioned me. After I assured her I was fine, she assessed the damage.

"There's only a crack, God knows how that got there," and me whoopsie, "but you need to go get your pointe shoes, I'm not paying for another pair because you're clumsy." She gave me one last weird look, and left the studio.

I let lose the breath that I didn't know I had been holding and shoved my feet into my tennis shoes.

"Yay going into the streets of LA in search of Pointe shoes!" I mockingly say to myself, something I got used to over the years. My best friend, Marnie, was at boarding school across the country most of the time. She should be coming home today, but since she was my only friend, I had got used to being my own best friend.

I stand on the sidewalk in front of Dance Like You Mean It Dance Studio, scanning for a pair of pointe shoes. Men, women, children walked the streets, hurrying to get wherever they're going. No sign of pointe shoes anywhere. I let out a sigh of frustration, and turned around, preparing to spend my own money I was saving for the roadtrip Marnie, her cousin, and I were going on, on a new pair of pointe shoes.

"I'm assuming these are yours?" Before me stood a boy holding my pointe shoes. MY pointe shoes!

"Where did you get those?" I questioned him.

"They fell out of the sky and hit me on the head." He answered, a straight, slightly irratated look on his face.

I took a minute to observe him. He had a simple, tiny quiff in the front of his dark brown hair, a single dimple on his right cheek, and eyes the color of dirt, just plain brown. He was wearing a button down that looked like it could have been worn with a tux, but he was wearing it with the top couple buttons unbuttoned, and well worn jeans.

My conculsion? He looked dang good.

"Whoopsie, that was me. Sorry. I kind of threw them out the window." I said, embaressed. Even though I was sick of ballet, and it had ruined my family, I shouldn't have thrown my shoes into the street. Last time a pair of shoes fell from the sky, Stanley Yelnats was sent to Camp Green Lake.

"If you don't mind me asking, why on Earth did you throw a pair of shoes out the window?"

"It's a long story involving the fact the ballet ruined my family, and I was sick and tired of it." I said with a sigh. I wasn't sure why he cared, he could've just given me back the shoes and left.

"Sounds like a roadtrip is in need. C'mon, I have dedicated my life to helping those in need, and you are most definitely in need."

"No. I don't even know your name, you could be a total creep, pervert, and insane. There is no way I'm going in a car with you. Nope. No way." I said before grabbing my shoes and walking back into the studio.

That was so totally weird. Who in their right mind invites total strangers to go on a roadtrip? Maybe it was because I was wearing a leotard. That pervert.

I watch him from my window climb into his van, an old hippie van with a peace sign in the front. So he was a hippie creeper.

I noticed an incoming call from Marnie.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hey stranger! Guess what?" Her staticy voice came through my cell phone's speaker.

"What?"

"My cousin just called me and told me he got here early! We can leave today," She stopped for a momment to cough, "go get packed! This is going to be so fun!"

Uh oh. Fear fun, always fear fun. Especially when fun and Marnie mix.